the death of her husband. There was nothing to distract her in the empty house full of memories, so one of the boys got her a canvas, an easel, and some paintbrushes. Basically, she went to town. She became so good at it that she occasionally donates paintings for charity auctions.
She squeals when I approach her, and suddenly two thick arms squeeze my neck.
“You must be Olivia. I’m so happy to meet you! You look beautiful in that dress.”
It’s overwhelming to be heaped with so much praise, but I get the vibe that Jennifer always exudes radiance and warmth. “Thank you.”
“Hey, Mom.”
“Come here, you!” She grabs him by the scruff of his neck and kisses his cheeks, only a few inches shorter than her son. Gage pats her on the back and gives me a look that says: Here we go.
We walk inside a large room, which seems smaller because of the logs protruding from the wall. There’s a large granite island in the kitchen, and a massive brown leather couch where Gage’s two brothers sit. I recognize Jack from the wedding. He saunters to both of us and grabs his brother in a one-armed hug that Gage tries to avoid. I guess he’s still sore about the whole marriage incident.
“Olivia, I have a feeling neither of us really remember the last time we met. I’m Jack, Gage’s younger brother.”
I shake his hand. “Nice to meet you—again.”
He grins. “Likewise.”
The other brother hangs behind him, looking at me warily. He’s only slightly shorter than Gage, but still just as imposing. Unlike Gage, he seems to have inherited his mother’s coloring with the fair skin and straw-colored hair.
“This is Chris, my older brother. He’s the sheriff of Fair Oaks.”
That would explain the no-nonsense attitude. A small smile tugs at his mouth as he extends a hand. “Hi, Olivia. It’s great to meet you. Are you enjoying Fair Oaks?”
“I am,” I admit, surprised that it’s true. “It’s a beautiful town, it really is.”
Chris gives me a thin-lipped smile and I feel as though I’ve been doused in cold water. I get it. Everything about our relationship must sound suspicious to him.
“So—how long are you staying in Fair Oaks?” he asks me.
I’m supposed to be Gage’s happily wedded wife. “Um—we haven’t really ironed out the details yet. Things are a bit…complicated.”
“I see,” he says, slightly frowning. He opens his mouth, but a sharp look from Gage stops any further inquiry.
Jennifer’s razor-edged voice suddenly rings out, making me jump. “Boys! I’m going to need help in the kitchen if you want dinner! No, not you sweetie. Gage, pour her a glass of sparkling apple juice.” She smiles at me. “Help yourself to the cheese plate.”
The boys spring into action and begin setting up the farmhouse table in the dining room with silverware and plates. Gage pours glasses of water for everyone and Chris grabs a pair of oven mitts to carry huge casseroles. Determined to help, I grab a stack of napkins and distribute them. Even though there are only five of us, Jennifer seems to have cooked a feast. There’s a tray of thick steaks, sitting in a pool of red juice. Tureens of gravy sit nearby, as well as a plate of baked trout with lemon slices. There’s mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables, grilled corn, fried tomatoes, succotash, and glasses of wine for everyone—except me.
Suddenly ravenous, I help myself to everything as the trays are passed. Jennifer looks up from the head of the table and beams at me.
“Oh, I love a girl who can eat!”
Blushing, I glance at the pile of food on my plate. “It all looks delicious.”
And it is. Everything seems to melt in my mouth, especially the steak. It’s cooked to perfection, which Jack claims credit for. My jangling nerves ease a bit once everyone tucks in. Any moment now, I’m expecting her to barrage me with questions about my life.
She fixes me with a beady eye and opens her mouth with a purposeful air.
Here we go.
“So were you born and raised in San Francisco?”
I swallow the peas before answering. “I was. It was a nice place to grow up, but moving out of my parents’ house was hard. Without a good job, it’s impossible to afford the rent there.”
Chris leans across the table. “How much is the average rent, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“For a one bedroom, it’s about three thousand five hundred a month.”
“Jesus!”
Jennifer whips her napkin at Jack’s shoulder. “You know I hate it when you